


A Maiden, A Dragon, and a Unicorn, Roughly Speaking

by lyricwritesprose



Series: Scatterings of History (Publication Order) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate forms, Aziraphale and Crowley starting myths while just trying to get by, Gen, POV Outsider, Pre-Arrangement, just barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: Angels have alternate forms just like demons do.  But Aziraphale rarely uses his.  Why?  Well, for one thing, it's not exactly inconspicuous—at least, not anymore.That doesn't mean he isn't responsible for the odd medieval myth.
Series: Scatterings of History (Publication Order) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634191
Comments: 55
Kudos: 299
Collections: Good Omens Celebration, Lyric's Emergency Fluff Collection





	A Maiden, A Dragon, and a Unicorn, Roughly Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does use a work skin for some formatting. If you normally have work skins disabled, I suggest enabling them temporarily so that you can see the small text where it's supposed to be. I guarantee I have not used eye-bleeding colors or anything of that sort.
> 
> I probably took some inspiration for this story from Līgfāmblāwende (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230465) which is also about a "dragon." The two stories take fairly different paths, but you should still check it out.

Eveline was not, in the most nice and accurate sense, a virgin sacrifice to a dragon. That is, while she had kept to activities that wouldn’t cause a swelling belly and the resultant inconvenient attachments, she had definitely enjoyed herself more than the word “virgin” would imply. And the dragon—there were varying reports about the dragon. Some people said it was a behemoth of some two hundred feet that breathed fire, had claws and wings, and slept on a pile of treasure every night. Some people said that it was merely (merely!) a thirty foot long snake, with no evidence of limbs whatsoever. Bowden the stable boy said that when he went up to stake out the sacrifice of sheep, the creature had been sunning on a log and attacked neither him nor the sheep, dismissing him with a hiss of, “Ssod off, it’ss too early in the morning for thiss.” But then, Bowden was well-known to be a bit of a simpleton.

The “sacrifice” bit, though. That was accurate.

Eveline struggled against the ropes again. It didn’t work. She was doing her best not to cry, but her best wasn’t very good.

At length, however, she dried her eyes on her shoulder and listened, because there seemed to be a conversation taking place in the nearby bushes.

“—can’t _believe_ you were going to just _eat_ a human _being—”_

 _“They_ think I want to eat her! I never ssaid anything like that! Do you actually think I want to go to the trouble of digessting shoes? Bessides, it’ss a gain for Heaven if I do, isn’t it?”

“I suppose . . . what are you doing here?”

“Needed ssomething flashy. And thiss qualifies, if I ssell it right. Ssacrificing a maiden to me? That’ss a lot of people who casually ssigned off on murder. Not good for their ssouls. What are _you_ doing here?”

A mumble.

“What?”

“Supposed to be in Aquitaine. It’s not my _fault,_ I try to check up on the remnants of Camelot once in a while, and the summons came in while I was trying to find Bedivere and his children, and I was _going_ to make my way to Dover when I heard about a dragon, and I decided that was exactly the sort of trouble a fifty-year-old knight errant shouldn’t be getting into—you haven’t seen him, have you? Or—or eaten him?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I haven’t eaten anyone!”

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’ss a sstupid ssituation. If I eat her, I’m ssending a ssoul to Heaven. If I don’t, I’m not terrorizing the countrysside. What I could really use—and I can’t believe I’m ssaying thiss—is someone to thwart me.”

“Well, yes, of course, but I have to think carefully about how to do it. I’m supposed to be riding for Aquitaine right now. I don’t suppose . . . I almost never use my alternate form, nobody will be expecting . . .”

Eveline tried to hear more, but the voices had dropped to whispers, one distinctly more sibilant than the other.

She thought about it. The whole situation seemed less hopeless and more inexplicable, which was, she supposed, an improvement. The sibilant voice—that must be the dragon, from context? Reluctant sort of dragon. And who was the other one?

She didn’t have very much time to wonder before a white horse came out of the forest. Or—no, not a horse. It was a slightly different shape, and had a different sort of tail, and a _single spiraling horn,_ which Eveline had never seen on any sort of beast. Horns came in twos, surely?

It was beautiful, whatever it was. Almost glowing in the early morning light.

Eveline held her breath as the animal (if it was an animal) approached her, and then, on impulse, held out her bound hands. The animal dipped its horn and sliced through the rope in a single small motion.

Eveline looked at the horn, and then at the rope. The horn wasn’t edged like a sword, but it had cut the rope like one.

No, no it hadn’t. The severed ends of the rope were _charred._

“Thank you,” she said. It was obvious she was dealing with something magical, and it was important to be polite.

The animal dipped its head and disposed of the ropes on Eveline’s feet in the same way. Eveline scrambled to her feet, and she and the animal looked at each other in what felt like a very awkward silence despite the fact that only one of them could speak.

 _Maybe_ only one of them could speak. Eveline hadn’t forgotten the conversation in the bushes.

“What now?” Eveline said finally.

The horselike animal made a small motion with its head and started walking, slowly, the sort of pace that would allow her to keep up with it. Eveline shrugged to herself and followed.

§

After a while, it became apparent that they weren’t going back to the castle where Eveline had worked as a servant. Which was just as well, really. Eveline had a long and bitter list of people who ought to have been more upset to see her sacrificed to a dragon—some of them in positions to do something about it—and she didn’t want to see those people again. For one thing, they might try a second time, and for another—well, what did you _say?_ _Owin, nice to see you again, don’t think I’ve forgotten that thing you do with your tongue, I’ll remember it fondly for the rest of my days, but you_ did _put me on the horse to ride out to my death so I don’t think I’ll be having that cup of wine with you after all . . ._ No. _Screw_ Owin. Or rather, afflict Owin with a distinct lack of screwing. And Conroy, and Moina, and, and . . .

But that left the question of where else she could go.

The horned animal seemed to know. But, Eveline reflected, the needs of a horse with a horn—no, the feet weren’t exactly horselike, were they? Cloven hooves. The needs of a cloven-footed animal the size of a horse were not those of an Eveline. Even supposing the animal meant to take care of her, it might have no idea how to do it. Lead her to good grazing, perhaps, and clear waters, and that did Eveline precisely no good whatsoever. And that was assuming it _had_ a goal.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Eveline asked.

That might have been a nod. Or it might have been the animal tossing its head.

Although really, the animal was lacking a lot of—animal-ness. Horses blew, and farted, and did other things; you knew they were _creatures,_ solid and organic and smelly. Eveline might as well have been walking beside a shaft of moonlight—well, sunlight, considering that it was getting on towards noon.

A little bit eerie, honestly.

Eveline walked in silence for a little while longer.

Just when she was beginning to think that she couldn’t _do_ this much longer, and was going to have to sit down, and how did you persuade a not-horse to let you sit down for a bit, she heard a hunting horn. Fairly close at hand.

She stiffened. Whoever the hunting party was—well, things didn’t always go smoothly for a (sort of) maiden out alone in the woods, did they? It might be best to hide, see if she could make her way to the nearest village without—

The hunting party burst through the trees. Drew up short, with the leader staring at Eveline—and then at the white not-a-horse.

“Kind sir,” Eveline began, and then, as the leader of the hunting party nocked an arrow, _“Run!”_

The not-a-horse spun on its heels and ran.

The hunting party followed, at a gallop, throwing clods of earth at Eveline’s good dress (only dress, now). _“You stop that!”_ she screamed after them, uselessly. _“It helped me!”_ They were going to track it down, they were going to kill it—

Someone was stopping right next to her and dismounting. “It’s all right,” the man said, “you’re safe now.”

“I was safe _before,_ idiot!” And never mind that he was distinctly easy on the eyes, and rich enough to be wearing scarlet and _blue_ . “It was _helping_ me, and they’re going to ride it down, and _kill_ it, and—” And there was no reason to be crying over an animal, even an extraordinary one. But she was.

“Don’t think they are,” the young man said, “actually.”

“What?”

“Things happen when you try to kill something as obviously magical as that. _I’m_ not getting in the middle of it. And neither should they, but there’s no telling Sir Varney anything when he’s got a beast in his sights. I’m Kelwin, by the way. Kelwin son of Bedivere.”

“Eveline,” Eveline said. “Eveline daughter of Adair.” She sized him up, and then tried looking winsome and helpless. “I have no idea where I am, good Sir Kelwin. I don’t suppose you could help me?”

His ears blushed, and Eveline thought, _ah, it’s working._ “Of course! Of course. I can take you back to wherever you came from, unless . . .”

“Alas,” Eveline said, “they tried to sacrifice me to a dragon.”

“A _dragon?”_

“Yes, I’ll tell you the story on the way . . .” Embellished in the right parts, of course, and leaving out mysterious conversations.

§

Early that evening, the hunting party’s horses arrived home.

This created enormous consternation and fear in the keep, and by the next day Eveline was beginning to wonder if it was safe to stay here after all—Kelwin’s formidable father entirely to the side—but then the hunters got back, and things settled down a little bit. Eavesdropping shamelessly, Eveline learned several things.

First, the beast was what the priest called a _unicornus,_ which meant that someone had heard of it before.[1] _Unicornus_ was a creature of surpassing strength and purity, and the priest speculated that it could only be tamed by a person of surpassing purity, which was why it had been entirely unafraid of Eveline but had bolted at the sight of the hunters. Eveline nodded and did her best to look pure.

Second, _unicornus_ was extraordinarily fleet of foot, agile, and capable of vaulting over an entire dragon, which was now some three hundred feet long, forty feet tall, and possessed of horns.

Third, horses _really_ did not like dragons.

And, fourth—despite multiple injuries from the unhorsing, Sir Varney was the hero of the hour, having slain the dread Wyrm.

§

“Are you all right?”

“You . . . healed me.”

“Well, it was my _fault!_ I thought the scent of demon around your cave would drive the horses mad, and I was _right,_ but I thought you’d make yourself scarce! I didn’t expect you to take on a whole hunting party of knights by yourself!”

“No, but you _healed_ me.”

“You were wounded! Badly wounded! Letting you discorporate from that—well, er, it wouldn’t have been sporting.”

_“Sporting.”_

“That’s right. I intend to defeat you fairly. Myself. Without unnecessary violence. How are you—easy, don’t strain yourself. Let me help you up. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I have any right to, especially considering—ugh.”

“Water?”

“Thanks.”

“Why _did_ you take on all those knights, anyway? I mean, you could have—you could have left. I could have managed on my own. Outlasted them, if nothing else—I have a lot more endurance than an ordinary unicorn, let alone a horse—”

“All right, let’s get one thing straight, I did _not_ take on a troop of knights to rescue you.”

“No, no, of course not! I wasn’t saying—that is—I didn’t actually think—I mean, you’re a _demon.”_

“Right.”

“A foul fiend. You wouldn’t rescue anyone. Not without an ulterior motive, anyway.”

“. . . Exactly.”

“But—why, then?”

“Well—to be honest, I wasn’t sure where I could transport myself that being a fifty foot snake wouldn’t cause more problems than it’s worth.”

“Forty feet, surely. And you could have got away by shrinking—”

“Excuse me, but I know how long I was being! Everything I could have tried took _time._ If I changed back before transporting myself, then the knights would have had time to attack first, and if I changed back after, I still have all the problems of being a _fifty_ foot snake in whatever place I chose. But that's beside the point. The point is, _you healed me."_

"Yes, we established that!"

"You shouldn't be _able_ to heal me! Incompatible energies. It should have _at least_ discorporated me, maybe destroyed me altogether. How did you do it? How did you _know_ you could do it? You risked my entire existence, Aziraphale! I suppose I shouldn't expect much more than that, you're an angel, but—"

"Done it before."

"What?"

"I've done it before! That other demon, and, and your wound was on _fire,_ Crowley, _you_ were on fire, I could tell that whatever he cut you with it was eating into your essence as well, destroying you slowly, and you were in such terrible pain that I couldn't stand it, so I—I—I healed you."

"Sumer."

"Yes."

“When Pazuzu tried to murder me so he could have a shot at being a full-time Earth-based tempter. You were _there,_ and you healed me.”

“Yes.”

“You left before I woke up. I didn’t even get to see you!”

“Well, it would have been very awkward, wouldn’t it, and I was worried about what you would say, and I was even more worried about what _they_ would say, so I paid that lovely woman to take care of you until you woke and got out of there as fast as I could.”

A pause.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine. Great! Better than ever. Just thinking. If they lied to us about angels being able to heal demons, what else have they lied to us about?”

“I, I strongly doubt that anybody was _lying_ to anybody. It’s probably just an error.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“Of course I do! I am a creature of belief, after all. If Heaven says it, I believe it. Or at least, I believe that they’re sincerely misinformed and not exercising any, any sort of malice.”

“Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Where did you say you were going? Aquitaine?”

“Well, yes.”

“As it happens, I’m going the same direction for a while. Do you want to travel together? It would be safer on the road.”

“I suppose the roads _are_ very unsafe, ever since Arthur fell.”

“Comes of warring kings who think they don’t have to pay their soldiers. And anyone with a square foot of dirt to his name is calling himself a king these days. Listen, it doesn’t do either of us any good to be discorporated by bandits. We can’t do our jobs if we’re discorporated by bandits. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“I suppose if you put it like that . . . but what about being a dragon? Terrorizing the countryside?”

“Dragoning was getting boring.”

* * *

[1]They hadn’t. The priest had applied his Latin skills and creativity to the subject, and, not having very much of the latter, had designated the one-horned animal a “one-horn.” What the people of Noah’s time would have called the species was irretrievably lost to humanity, if not to Heaven or Hell. [ return to text ]


End file.
